On thieves...
In this town there are alot of bad things.
Drugs, Warmongers, Perdophiles, Tweekers, Republicans . . .and thieves.
Thats right. Thieves. Creepy crawly in-the-dark people who come to take away my things. My music, my memories. my posessions. when you find out that some little cloak-and-dagger has been rummaging through your possesions to seek out the baubels most precious to there trafficking you do strange things. When the mother drops the phone in the kitchen leaving a military officials bad news swinging, thats how it feels. When a little girl is waiting for the bus to come and a car never slows down for her little cat. It's a bad feeling. It's the feelings of a bridge giving way underneath you. For that split second you wait for the step in the dark, but you never find it. It's that last sensation before the gutteral scream forms somewere below your stomach. And then there's the vengance.
I know were he sleeps...
Earlier today I trapped a spider in a jar, and i've been tormenting it.
I'll creep across these dimly lit courtyards with the jar under my coat.
Nothing suspicious about torment.
I Know were he sleeps.
I'll slip a knife to his throat and set the jar on his belly.
Good morning. Don't scream.
The lids off, and the jars upsdide down. If you scream, he'll come crawling down.
And i've been tormenting him all day.
What do spiders do?
No, spiders don't cry.
Not even tormented spiders.
Awake! Eight little legs come creepy crawling down the jar.
If you lsiten, you can almost hear the eight, little, legs.
Creepy
Crawly
Legs.
You scream I cut your throat.
Creepy crawly across the skin.
Like little needles.
And now.
We toment you.
Drugs, Warmongers, Perdophiles, Tweekers, Republicans . . .and thieves.
Thats right. Thieves. Creepy crawly in-the-dark people who come to take away my things. My music, my memories. my posessions. when you find out that some little cloak-and-dagger has been rummaging through your possesions to seek out the baubels most precious to there trafficking you do strange things. When the mother drops the phone in the kitchen leaving a military officials bad news swinging, thats how it feels. When a little girl is waiting for the bus to come and a car never slows down for her little cat. It's a bad feeling. It's the feelings of a bridge giving way underneath you. For that split second you wait for the step in the dark, but you never find it. It's that last sensation before the gutteral scream forms somewere below your stomach. And then there's the vengance.
I know were he sleeps...
Earlier today I trapped a spider in a jar, and i've been tormenting it.
I'll creep across these dimly lit courtyards with the jar under my coat.
Nothing suspicious about torment.
I Know were he sleeps.
I'll slip a knife to his throat and set the jar on his belly.
Good morning. Don't scream.
The lids off, and the jars upsdide down. If you scream, he'll come crawling down.
And i've been tormenting him all day.
What do spiders do?
No, spiders don't cry.
Not even tormented spiders.
Awake! Eight little legs come creepy crawling down the jar.
If you lsiten, you can almost hear the eight, little, legs.
Creepy
Crawly
Legs.
You scream I cut your throat.
Creepy crawly across the skin.
Like little needles.
And now.
We toment you.